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High School Dances and Hetalia Guys - Hong KongYou really didn't like dances.
Normally, you stayed far away whenever a dance was taking place at your school. You hated the dark, crowded gym with people constantly elbowing you or jostling you or stepping on you. Then there was the occasional creeper that tried to hit on you, and also the possibility of making a total fool of yourself if you actually bothered to try and dance a little. Not to mention that the seizure-inducing lights were annoying, and most of all- the drama that went on between the students was ridiculous. Apparently there was something about the environment that made those already out of control teenage emotions and hormones run high. Catfights, fistfights, screaming matches, girls sobbing hysterically in the bathroom, and the ever-popular make-out session, right there in front of everyone. Did we really need to see that? Sometimes there were even kids passing around drugs or booze. It all unnerved you, and even disgusted you. You couldn't think of a single reason w
HetaliaxReader- Airport- China"_____. I am here to pick you up." declared a thickly accented voice from behind you.
"Wang Yao!" you squealed in delight, spinning around to hug the Chinese man.
"Yes. I said I would pick you up from the airport at five thirty." Wang Yao looks puzzled,
"Did you not hear me?"
You blushed, "No… I heard. It's just… Wow, you're right on time!" You let out a nervous little laugh.
"Yes, well, what do you want to do now…?"
Your stomach growled, "How about dinner…?"
Wang Yao nodded, "Sounds perfect. What would you like?"
"Chinese sounds delicious but I don't think there are any Chinese restaurants around here…"
"Don't be silly, ____. There's one right here." Wang Yao looked down at you, head tilted slightly, eyeing you over with a puzzled look.
"What? No there's-" And then you looked around. The airport was filled with many restaurants, shops and houses. The people bustling along the street were all of Asian descent and seemed to be off to jobs of some kind or another. A sign hung just above
Christmas Night (FinlandxChild!Reader)"(Name), dear! It's 10:00, go to sleep!"
You pouted. "I wanna stay up and meet Santa Claus!"
Your mom smiled and shook her head. "Alright, but no later than Midnight, okay?" You frowned.
"If you stay up too late, Santa Claus won't give you any presents!" You gasped.
"I didn't know that! Thanks for telling me!" You ran past your mom and up the stairs. You hopped in your bed and stared out the window, hoping to see a reindeer or something.
After a while you began to nod off.
"N-no! I can't! I need to thank Santa Claus for last year's presents!" You got a bit thirsty, so you tiptoed downstairs to get a glass of milk. "What time is it?" You thought and looked at the clock hanging in the kitchen.
"12:01?!" You gaped. Then you looked at the empty table. "Wait! The cookies and milk aren't set out!" You tried your best to drag the stool over quietly with no luck. It screeched loudly. Luckily your parents were heavy-sleepers. You climbed the stool and stood on the counter, clinging o
.:World x Reader - Cluedo:.World x Reader – Cluedo
A quiet games evening at Feliks' house. Not what you'd really expect, but it was the only way to spend your Saturday night. It was either this, going to the pub, or watching T.V anyway. So there you were, playing Cluedo with your friends.
You had woken in the morning to Feliks nearly burning door down just to get in and inform you that tonight he was having a games night with a few friends and you totally had to come. Or else.
You had been the last one to arrive as you had purposely taken forever to get here and by the looks of things the other people had been staying here for a while.
So far had been going great, with Feliks forcing you to do karaoke, one of the rough one of the group somehow ending up singing a high pitched squeaky thing. That certainly was funny.
And then you started Cluedo.
"Living room, Mustard, Knife."
And that's how the first rumor went. Eva yelling 'KNIFE!' on her go. Just what you do, isn't it? Sigh. She really was
Male!BelarusXReader: It kills me inside [Ch. 7]
Chapter 7: Confession
The time has come. I was searching for Vladimir to end this lie. It took me a while to find him, but when he saw me he ran at me and hugged me strong.
"Please! Tell me you'll marry me!" He insisted with his idea.
"I won't." I sincerely said. I wasn't showing any fear or insecurity.
"Sestra, what happened to you?" He let me go and started at me, trying to figure out what happened to "my" voice.
"Don't even try. I'm not who you think I am. Can't you recognize my voice? Did you really forget me?"
"Are you, by any chance, ____?" He asked unsure.
I look off my contact lenses and looked at him with my (eyes' color) eyes. "Yes! I am! Surprised!?" I yelled. My eyes expressed the sadness I was feeling.
"What did you do!?" He yelled back.
"What did I do?? Is it hard to understand??"
"Why would you do that, then??"
"You don't understand, you ignorant." I looked down. I felt my heart breaking and I felt my world ending. I felt losing my sanity. I felt like the p
Male!BelarusXReader: It kills me inside [Ch. 2]
Chapter 2: An idea
This time, I was with Nadya at her house.
"I'll make him fall for you! You'll see~"
I giggled and smiled. She's such a good friend. But this made me think. 'Why would she help me with this if she always says I should forget Vladimir?' I pondered this question for a while as she tried to think at something. I finally took some courage and called Nadya.
"Nadya, may I ask you something?"
"Yes?" She asked.
"Why are you helping me with this?"
She turned at me and smiled. "Because you're my friend, of course."
"Yes, yes. But you always said that I should forget him since he's not who he was once." I was really curious to know why she's doing this. I appreciate her attitude, but as anyone else, I'm curious.
"I said and I still say. Or at least, I would. I already noticed that you're really in love, that what you feel for him is very serious. So I want to help you to get his attention even if I think that things
A Game Of Hearts 2P!EnglandXReaderHeart pounding, lungs burning, legs aching. A quick turn to the left, in hope that there was a room you could hide in. No such luck.
You heard his strange, almost demonic laugh and shivers of fear ran up your spine. "Where are you, ___?" He cooed. Tears threatened to come and you squeezed your eyes shut.
How could this have happened?
Several hours earlier......
You drummed your fingers impatiently on the table, sneaking glances at your blond American boyfriend, who wouldn't shut up about global warming. Although his enthusiasm was admirable, you also found it a bit childish; not that it stopped you from loving him.
Your eyes occasionally darted to look at Arther, though that was no surprise; he looked completly different today. His skin was much paler and his hair was strawberry blond. Did he dye it or something?
His eyes, usually an attractive shade of emerald green, were a piercing blue color. Said eyes met yours and you quickly turned your attention to the table, a
France x Reader (Fanservice)You shift in the covers, snuggling your face close to Francis Bonnefoy's chest. His eyelashes flutter open, the long, curly blonde lashes framing his perfectly blue eyes. His lips brush the top of your head as he shifts around, the stubble of his chin brushing against your soft skin.
"Bonjour, belle," he whispers to me, his French accent thick. His voice is like a sweet tune of velvet to your ears, and you murmur out a good morning as you bring your body closer to the warmth of his. He chuckles softly, whispering, "Je t'aime, (name). Vous êtes la plus belle fille du monde."
You sit up with a yawn, loving the feeling you get around him, as if a butterfly farm is located inside your stomach. With Francis, the only thing you seem to feel is this infinite amount of bliss
Well, sort of.
Your eyes open as you recall last night. Francis came late for the third time this week, claiming it had to do with his work. Of course, you couldn't help but notice the girls
Three Words - Switzerland x ReaderSwitzerland x Reader
You couldn't count how many times this had happened. Five, or ten, fifteen, or twenty? It was funny how you thought the numbers mattered.
As you curled up on the curb outside in the cold, a strangled sob escaped you.
How many times had they said anything? How many times had the nasty whispers been hushed as you walked by? Had they given you dirty looks? Had they made you feel like this?
How many times, how far too many times, had you sat alone and cried?
You could cry to the point where it gave you a migraine and you still couldn't stop the sobbing, even when the tears dried up. But the next day you could cry again. How you wanted it to stop. How you wanted to just run away. It would be a dream come true.
But you couldn't be thinking like this. Who were you? Not some crybaby. You had to be strong. You were sick of this. The only way it would stop if you made it stop.
You sniffed and angrily wiped your face with your arm, trying to convince yours
Blood BrothersBrookie always holds my hand when we cross the street. She's never given a reason for it, she just does it. It's become this unspoken rule with us that whenever we cross the street together, she slips her hand in mine and I lace my fingers through hers and we walk hand-in-hand until we reach the other side and she drops her hand and we both wipe our palms on our jeans. Brookie's a little scared of crossing the street. Her poppa died in a car crash when we were six. He was a pedestrian. She's never gotten over it.
Brookie is my best friend going on sixteen years now, which is pretty impressive considering we're both sixteen. We don't have some cute little story about how we were born in the same hospital on the same day or about how our mothers were best friends long before they were pregnant with us and somehow passed on that bond while we were still in utero. No, Brookie and I met the same way ever
MercyOh sweet God how the grassland
ignites in moonlight tonight
I must thank you for creating
her tangled fingers' slow pace
through the handsome rain Her
trochaic kinesthesia to rhythms
in Stravinsky's The Rite of
Spring Is this how you meant
for us to love you Yahweh
Tumbling clumsily down hills
of sheets into perpetually
immutable silence I could love
you like that I think I've been
practicing on this Savanna
for days and months Lost in
her crystal canvas Rolling crests
and troughs And when she touches
me Oh fair Lord I'm dragged into
your city past Gethsemane's
pulsing green and gold
Please hold us together
under this luminous stretch
Oh Father We are live
unclothed Our reflections awash
with the skin of your sun
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A two-time Community Volunteer for the deviantART Related category, Anne is well-known as a positive, helpful force. She is the community's resident expert when it comes to CSS (Cascading Style Sheets), and her personal gallery offers a wide variety of tutorials for new and experienced coders alike. In addition, each winter she hosts a calendar project encouraging members to create Journal designs for all to use, bringing more creativity to the community.
It is with immense gratitude that we acknowledge Anne as the recipient of the Deviousness Award for October 2014. Read More